


Never Enough

by SugarAndSlice



Category: Soulbound - Fate's Hand (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Walking Dead, Angst, Blood and Gore, M/M, Originally an RP, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29147592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarAndSlice/pseuds/SugarAndSlice
Summary: Two survivors attempt to find sanctuary in a desolate, apocalyptic world.
Relationships: Flint/Roylin Riptide
Kudos: 1





	Never Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally an RP by myself, Reese, (spoiler alert this is my ao3 shh) and Nelson, meaning the format will be reminiscent of a roleplay. Both of us are creators of the Soulbound podcast and story, and we just have way too much fun with our characters. Please keep in mind, this is all in good fun, and how things are represented in this universe are not representative of what happens in canon. We're just messing around!
> 
> Please enjoy! We had a blast working on this story in particular, and cannot wait to hear your thoughts <3
> 
> (P.S. - Chapter updates will most likely be weekly-ish, though we'll see how it goes)

A cacophony of disgruntled moans fills Roylin's ears as he hastily ducks towards the wall of a suburban home, back against wooden planks that provide him temporary cover.

_Fuck._

The rendezvous they had planned was an absolute bust. Roylin arrived just a bit too late to safely see the approaching herd, the soon to be coming walkers now cutting him and his old campsite off completely by surrounding half of this neighborhood. He barely knows the area, though he understands the layout enough to know there's no going back the way he came.

Roylin curses under his breath as he rummages through his satchel, scrambling to grab a few spare bullets that he quickly loads into his handgun. Had everything gone according to plan, he would have been able to hit up a nearby storehouse to restock, though due to everything going wrong, he's now left with only five bullets. Gripping his firearm in one hand and his machete in the other, Roylin slings his bag over his shoulder once more and crouches nearby against a rundown car. Peeking his head over the hood, he could see maybe fifteen walkers stumbling into the neighborhood ahead of him. Breathing a few quick breaths to psyche himself up, Roylin leaves his hiding space and starts making a run for it to the other end of the area that's next to the forest. It's a few blocks away, and he can already see a few walkers shambling about in his path.

~

Flint's fingers tap restlessly against a window sill as he peers through the old planks of wood covering the glass. He'd holed up in one of the neighborhood houses for the night, and had meant to leave as soon as the sun was up but had awoken to find the streets already crawling with walkers. Thank fuck he'd double-checked all the locks last night. Now he's trapped, but he has enough water on him to last a few days if necessary, so as long as he stays quiet, he should be alright until the herd moves on. Just as long as he doesn't-

Well. Doesn't do precisely what that lunatic is doing. Outside, Flint spots a man sprinting down the street, evidently heading for the forest. Flint's grip on the window sill tightens as his eyes follow the man's path. From his vantage point on the second floor, Flint can see what the man can't: a cluster of walkers stumbling up the street near the corner.

~

Roylin continues running, clearing a block as he sprints down the sidewalk. A lone walker turns to face him, head tilting as its partially decaying jaw slacks to the side. It takes a few steps forwards, though before it can reach him, Roylin brings down his machete. It splits the corpse's skull in two, its damaged head clattering to the ground as Roylin runs around its toppling body. That's one of the three, maybe four walkers that are between him and freedom. He continues barreling up the sidewalk, a distant treeline finally coming into view. He's just about to reach the next block-

-when a loud group of footsteps and groans comes from his side. Quickly turning, Roylin sees the group of hidden walkers and whips out his gun, firing two shots into the nearest ones that threaten to bite him. That doesn't do anything to stop the others, which advance on the startled man as he holds up his weaponry, using it as best as possible to try and defend himself against the group. Another machete slash and another gunshot, leaving two more downed. Roylin holds his position, trying his best not to walk back the way he came towards the oncoming herd. 

Roylin is running frighteningly low on ammo, and a blade can only do so much against that many walkers. His heart beats loud in his ears as his grim situation dawns on him.

~

Flint tenses as he watches the walkers bear down on the lone man. There's no way the guy will make it out of there, not without help. The noise from the gunshots has probably already attracted the rest of the nearby herd. A quick scan up and down the street - as far as he can see between the boards covering the window - confirms this. Flint shifts from foot to foot, deliberating.

If he stays quiet, there's a pretty high chance the walkers will pass right by. There might even be an opening for him to escape if he times it right. It would be the smart thing to do. 

He hesitates only a second longer before turning and dashing down the stairs. He fumbles with the lock on the front door, not bothering with silence anymore as he throws it open and sprints up the street towards the other man.

~

Roylin hacks into another walker with his machete, jumping back to climb onto the roof of a nearby car. The walkers crowd around most of the vehicle, a few attempting to scramble up the hood before getting a quick slash to their skulls. He looks around, his vision darting from snarling faces to the distant and arriving herd, to the treeline behind him with only a spare few walkers that are shambling closer. 

As he kicks an undead man off the hood, his machete is still buried in the brains of another nearby, and he tries to think of a way out. If he gets lucky, he can try and clear one of the sides of the car, but with the random singles drawing closer, doing that would be near impossible. With another slash, he rips his weaponry free of decomposing flesh and bone. He's already made enough noise... might as well try. Maybe his group got here late too and were nearby.

"Hey!! Help!! Is anyone there!?!" Roylin shouts, his voice breaking as he desperately yells for someone, anyone, to come to his immediate aid.

~

Flint stumbles to a stop a couple of yards away, heart pounding as he struggles to figure out some semblance of a plan. Even if the guy manages to get away from the ones surrounding the car, there's still easily a dozen more on the way, possibly more. Flint needs to find a way to draw their attention and keep it long enough to both make a run for the woods. Watching the man hack at the undead corpses from the roof of the car, Flint gets an idea. 

He whips around, scanning the street for- there! Another abandoned car, just a couple of driveways away. He crosses the street, keeping low and as quiet as he can now and praying he'll go unnoticed. Once he reaches the vehicle, he starts fiddling with the lock on the door, purposely fumbling it as much as possible. Nothing happens, and he feels his lungs begin to constrict with panic as he hears more walkers approaching. In desperation, he just yanks on the door, and finally- yes! The alarm goes off, the blaring noise echoing through the empty neighborhood. 

Flint quickly ducks to the side of the closest house, hopefully out of sight. His hand trembles on the hilt of his knife as he watches the creatures surrounding the guy on the other car, praying that at least some of them will take notice of the noise.

Apart from the greedily hungry arms that rested on the hood, the loud noise instantly gets the attention of a good couple of walkers. They leave towards Flint, stumbling and walking over while providing a gap alongside the car Roylin. His attention snaps to the sound, the alarm possibly the most fantastic thing he's ever heard as it gives him a moment to escape. He leaps off of the hood, using his fourth bullet to nail one of the closest walkers in the head as he takes off further towards the woods. He clears out one more walker with his machete and makes it past the distraction car. He runs off to the side, deciding a side alleyway was probably the best course to take while the main road was full of creeps. Just as Roylin hastily makes it between two of the homes, ready to continue sprinting off with more cover, he freezes.

Pressed against the wall of the house he just ran to is a stranger. He barely gets a good look at the man who he almost ran into before grabbing his arm, immediately continuing to run as he pulls the unfamiliar face down further towards the back of the house. 

"Follow me!" Roylin doesn't wait for a response, letting go of the stranger and running down a silent back alley when they're off the main road, assuming he's being tailed.

Flint follows immediately, checking over his shoulder as they go. A couple of walkers are shambling after them, but now that they're away from the central cluster, they should be able to outrun them easily. In the distance, the alarm continues to blare, hopefully drawing the attention of any more of the vile creatures that happen to be nearby. 

When they're a few streets away, on the edge of the forest, Flint slows to a walk, panting as he tries to catch his breath.

"Are you okay?" He speaks, at last, addressing the stranger in front of him. "I thought you were toast back there."

Roylin gasps for air, attempting to slow down his adrenaline-fuelled heart. He leans back against a nearby tree, taking a moment to rummage around and pull a water bottle from his satchel. After a beat and a sip of water, he finally turns to answer the question.

"Honestly, so did I. I'm alright, thanks to you triggering that alarm back there. Gods, I was sure I was absolutely going to become an even more brainless freak." He attempts to joke, offering the other man his water bottle. "My name is Roylin, by the way. Yourself?"

Now that he isn't being chased by undead monsters and moving around rather quickly, it's easier to see what Roylin looked like. He was wearing a dark indigo and black smattered sleeveless top with the midriff torn out and has a sturdy handgun now properly clipped back to his belt. Very faded streaks of color are visible in his loosely pointed blond hair, and he's gripping a machete with purple duct-tape around the handle in tight guard gloves. A necklace can be seen tucked under his shirt, a string over his collarbones, and various scars decorate his skin where the shirt doesn't reach. A final note is his left eye, a medical patch taped up over it with scars running up from his cheek to a cut eyebrow.

"Flint." Roylin's rescuer gratefully takes a long drink of the water before continuing, the panic finally fading from his chest. He tosses the now half-empty bottle back to Roylin, looking him over. The guy doesn't seem to be injured, aside from maybe his eye. 

Flint himself isn't in much better condition, though he at least hasn't lost any major body parts. His clothes are old and nearly worn through in some spots, apart from a thick leather jacket on his torso. Underneath is a Hogwarts t-shirt that appears to be a couple of sizes too big, the logo cracked and nearly illegible. Flint's hair is dark and short, falling in tight curls close to his scalp as though it had been shaved not long ago but had started to grow out again. Several jagged scars are visible on his legs through the rips in his jeans, and many more small ones are scattered across his hands.

After a second of silence, Flint turns to glance regretfully over his shoulder, back toward the neighborhood.

"Well, fuck. Most of my stuff was in that house. I didn't think I'd have to leave so suddenly."

"Wonderful to meet you, Flint," Roylin says, tucking the water bottle back into his satchel. He looks back at the neighborhood towards the still blaring alarm, grimacing slightly. 

"I am incredibly thankful that you just saved my life, though I am truly sorry for your loss of gear. Depending on how long it takes for that herd to get going, you could try to go back, though residential areas tend to stay cluttered." Roylin looks down at his machete, flicking some of the blood still on it off into the grass. With his melee weapon and a single bullet left, it doesn't look like the two of them would be able to get back to that house in one piece. He looks back up, seriously hoping Flint didn't leave some godly ammo stash or endless food rations at the home they just abandoned. "Are you alone?"

"Yeah." Flint looks away, his hand twitching at his side at the question. Briefly, he considers going back, but...

"There was nothing there I can't replace. Just a bit of extra food and a sleeping bag, really." He shrugs with a forced casualty, meeting Roylin's eye again. "What were you doing in that neighborhood anyway?"

"Well, the plan was to meet up with my group there to search the place for supplies. I must have gotten there late, and they had returned to the campsite or something since the herd cut me off. Chances are they got the fuck out of dodge and left, without my knowing." Roylin replies, sheathing his machete in a belt loop. He turns, looking out to the right into a thicker portion of the woods.

"For the time being, looks like we're buddied up. Since that way is going to result in immediate death by walker dismemberment," Roylin gestures back towards the neighborhood with a grin, "I say we head East. My group and I scouted out another spot we were hoping to hit after this one, but plans have clearly fallen through. We can restock supplies, get you a new sleeping bag, and possibly get a vehicle if they haven't all been snaked. How's that sound, darling?" Roylin asks with a head tilt, his voice now energetic and no longer lacking air after the earlier panic.

_Darling?_

Flint hesitates, unsure how to react to the sudden friendly attitude. It could just be a front, to get him to let his guard down, only to get gutted in his sleep. But then, Flint did just pretty much say he has nothing of value on him, which is the truth. And the guy hadn't just ditched him to be eaten by walkers...

"Uh, sure. I was going East anyway." He starts walking, keeping an eye on Roylin in his peripheral vision. "Think we'll run into your group?"

"Possibly, though then again, we did have an emergency vehicle ready just in case something were to happen. I'd guess that a passing herd would be enough reason to use it, so they could be far from here." Roylin walks up, strutting along just next to Flint as they traverse through the woods. 

"Gods, I... I cannot thank you enough, Flint. Seriously, I absolutely owe you one." Roylin laughs, feeling slightly lightheaded. The fear from earlier is dying down relatively fast, the whole situation feeling surreal. What were the chances that someone was nearby? He feels like the luckiest idiot on the planet.

"Take first watch tonight when we sleep, and we can call it even," Flint replies. He usually wouldn't trust a stranger to watch his back like that, but truth be told, he's exhausted from the stunt with the walkers earlier. For the first time in a while, he's sure he'll sleep like a rock tonight. 

He falls silent for a while as they walk, eyes continually scanning through the trees for any signs of life.

"Deal." 

They walk for a good little while in silence, Roylin still recovering from the fact that he was seconds away from death earlier. Finally, after maybe half an hour or so of hiking through the woods, he spots the edge of another residential area. Luckily, at least from this distance, there isn't a walker in sight. 

"Here we are!" Roylin exclaims, taking a few slower and more cautious steps towards the edge of the treeline. He looks around, noting the smaller general area of this neighborhood and lack of sound. 

"That house there looks like a good start, so we can clear it and stop for the day. Fair warning, I'm down to one round. What do you have on you?" Roylin asks, taking out his gun and double-checking his severe lack of ammo before tucking it away and pulling out his more reliable machete. Flint pulls his knife out of its sheath, giving it a little twirl in response. 

"This is pretty much it," he replies, his tone grim. "But it's probably for the best. We don't want to attract a whole group of walkers and end up stuck again." He starts to make his way toward the house, keeping an eye on Roylin at the same time.

"Better than nothing," Roylin smirks, approaching the house in a crouch with Flint just behind him. He walks around from the back, scanning the much more deserted street before them, then creeps up the porch steps towards the front door. For a beat, he listens, his head just above the handle before he quietly opens the door. Its hinges creak as it gently swings back into what looked like a dining room, the faintest shuffling of footsteps coming from the kitchen to the left and a groan echoing out from a room further back. Roylin looks back at Flint, pointing in the kitchen's direction, then to himself, and starts making his way in that direction. 

For a decently sized house, a walker or two is standard. As Roylin turns the corner into the kitchen, he sees a shambling creature standing in front of the oven. Before the undead woman can turn around, Roylin brings his machete down into its skull on an angle, removing the blade to let the rest of her body fall to the floor with a thump.

Flint nods and leaves Roylin in the kitchen, heading down the hallway toward the other source of the noise. He rounds the corner into what looks like the living room, spotting the walker shuffling aimlessly across the other side of the room. It's a gruesome sight - one of the thing's arms is missing, and there's a dent in the side of its head, as though someone had taken a swing with a bat but hadn't managed to kill it.

As he's creeping around the back of a couch, Flint takes a wrong step. One of the floorboards creaks, causing the walker to instantly turn to him with a snarl, and he curses as it stumbles toward him, remaining arm outstretched. He dodges to the side, sprinting around behind the creature and driving the knife into the side of its head before it can fully react. It drops, letting out a disgusting gurgle as it hits the floor, and Flint breathes a sigh of relief.

Opening a few kitchen drawers reveals a few things of canned food. Roylin grabs a few before he hears the commotion in the next room over, which distracts him from his search. He rounds the corner, locking the door to the house as he hastily runs into the living room, scanning the area before his eyes land on his new companion.

"You alright?" He asks, double-checking that Flint hasn't been injured. "I got mine with no problem, so I think this floor is clear."

"Yeah, fine," Flint nods. "Let's check upstairs then." He steps over the walker's corpse with a grimace, pushing past Roylin and heading for the stairs. He pauses at the bottom, listening; it doesn't sound like there's anything up there, but you can never be too careful. Checking to make sure that Roylin is following, he creeps up the stairs.

At the top is a long hallway, lined with several doors and picture frames. All are shut tight except for one near the far end, hanging off one of its hinges. From his vantage point at the top of the stairs, all Flint can see is the corner of a dresser, but he'd guess it's a bedroom. He gestures to Roylin and begins to make his way silently down the hall.

"I'm right behind you." Roylin nods, following behind Flint as they make it upstairs. As they walk past a few of the shut doors, he tries to listen for something, opening the doors and peering into them momentarily to nothing. Apart from a few rooms that look relatively untouched, an office, and a few bedrooms, they were empty of danger. 

Gripping his weapon defensively, Roylin sneaks down the hallway, following in Flint's footsteps to the partially open door. His boots make very little noise on the carpeted wood beneath him, allowing the duo to approach without making a sound.

As they reach the end of the hallway, Flint takes a steadying breath, tightening his grip on his knife. Another glance back confirms that Roylin is still there, so he nods, and pushes open the door, tensing as-

Nothing happens. Splayed across the floor are the rotting corpses of two more walkers, one fully beheaded, the other with a deep slice in its skull. Old, congealed blood stains the floor beneath them, and the smell is vile, but there's no danger.

"Looks like we got lucky," Flint comments as he straightens up. He heads into the room, pulling the collar of his shirt up to cover his nose as he begins to dig through the dresser.

"Thank the Gods, I'm starving." Roylin finally says, exhaling his held breath from their stealthy endeavors. He reaches into his satchel and retrieves a dark rag, clearing the dark blood from his machete before sheathing it back into his belt.

"I found some canned vegetables and a canned beef tin, which we can split. From the brief looks I got when we got up here, it looked like those closed-off rooms were near brand new, so I'll bet we can find something good up here." Roylin grins, folding up the rag and tucking it away again. "I'll grab our dinner, as well as I personally vote we don't eat in a room with any corpses. Really kills the mood." 

He smirks, trotting off down the hallway and stairs, humming a barely audible tune to himself. Today is a win.

"Agreed," Flint mutters. He takes a couple of pairs of socks from the dresser, then crosses to the closet, almost gagging as he steps around the corpses on the floor. Thankfully the doors had remained closed, so the blood on the floor has left the contents mostly untouched. He rifles through the relatively spare clothes on the hangers, ignoring most of them. What he's looking for is- aha! 

On the top shelf of the closet, Flint spots a rolled-up backpack. It looks to be a cheaply made school bag, but he needs something to carry supplies, so it'll have to do. It takes him a few minutes of undignified jumping to pull it down, but after inspecting it, it seems fine, so he happily heads back downstairs to join Roylin. They can search the rest of the rooms later after they've gotten some food in their stomachs.

Roylin had done a fair bit of setting up while Flint had been searching. By the time he comes downstairs, Roylin is placing a kitchen knife on top of one of the closed vegetable cans, with said can sitting in the middle of a dinner plate. He's set up two little dining spaces, each with a set of mismatched cutlery and dish towels for napkins, and each plate has a closed can of veggies. A single can of beef sits in between the two setups, and there's a cluster of other various canned meals pushed off to the side, being saved for later.

"We'll be good on food for a while! I found a jackpot of different items that should sustain us for... I'd say five days? A week if we push it." Roylin says with glee, dusting off his hands and carefully removing his gloves as he finds his seat. "Do you want corn or carrots?" He gestures to Flint's chair across from himself, tilting his head quizzically.

"Fancy," Flint comments. He takes a seat across from Roylin, eyeing the cans of food. 

"Let's split both," he replies, gesturing at the corn and carrots. "Corn doesn't have much nutritional value, but it'll keep us full, so..." He picks up a fork, fiddling with it for a moment.

"Any idea if the water still works here? If it's safe to drink, we should probably take some with us if we can."

"I haven't checked, though that would be a good plan," Roylin says, taking his kitchen knife and popping the tab to peel open the can. He pours some carrots onto his plate before passing the rest over to Flint, reaching for the beef to do the same. 

"Wish the stove still worked so I could have done something about.. this." Roylin looks at his carrots and the beef bits he was actively adding to his meal, an expression of mild disgust forming on his face. "Electricity was truly a gift we took for granted. Luckily we still have some seasoning." He reaches into his bag and retrieves a salt packet, shaking it a bit before tearing the corner and sprinkling his unseasoned vegetables.

The corner of Flint's mouth twitches into the ghost of a bemused smile as he watches this, digging into his own plate of food without hesitation. 

"We're lucky to have found anything edible at all," he replies, though he does wince at the taste of the cold, slightly slimy meat. "Almost everything was gone in that other neighborhood. Pretty much all I found was shit covered in mold."

"Yuck," Roylin remarks, taking a bite of his own food as well. Fuck, if this stuff doesn't murder his sense of taste. He leans back against his chair after eating some of the beef, eyes disinterested as he wears an obviously disgusted scowl. 

"Double yuck. I think I'd prefer the mold." He jokes, though goes in for some more carrots and corn since they are more manageable, and he's too hungry to care.

"So, Flint," Roylin says after a moment, finishing off his vegetables. "You mentioned earlier that you were heading East as well. Any particular reason, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I have a friend out that way." Flint takes another big bite of food to delay his response for a moment, trying to figure out how best to elaborate. 

"Just after all of this started, before the cell towers stopped working, we agreed to meet up at our old hometown. I was, uh... delayed for a bit though, so. Who knows if he'll be there." He shrugs, clearing his throat. "What about you? Any plans to reconnect with your group, or...?"

"Not.. particularly," Roylin says, avoiding eye contact for a moment as he takes another bite of the canned beef. 

"I have the inkling of suspicion that they won't be coming back for me. Chances are they think I died back there, which would have absolutely been the correct assumption if it hadn't been for your quick thinking." He looks back up, a sincere smile on his face as he puts his cutlery down. "Thank you again for that."

"Don't mention it." Flint frowns down at his plate, a familiar coil of guilt twisting in his gut at the mention of Roylin's group leaving him. So they're both alone, then. Well, no point beating around the bush.

"Come with me." He meets Roylin's eye again, searching for his reaction. "We'll stand a better chance of surviving if we work together. I mean, it looks like you could use all the help you can get, and honestly, so can I."

Roylin blinks, genuinely surprised at the offer. His face lights up after a second, though, relief washing over him at the request. 

"Absolutely! The thought of going back out there alone was almost as detestable as this food." Roylin laughs. He reaches a friendly hand across the table, his nails chipped with small flakes of black paint. "I've got your back for as long as you need me, darling." A slight lilt of charm comes from his voice as he winks, emphasizing his one revealed eye with a little head tilt to communicate the expression correctly.

Flint can't help but give a small smile at the "wink" as he takes Roylin's hand, giving it a firm shake. His own palm is rough and calloused, but he idly wonders if Roylin's were soft once. 

"Likewise." He sits back, finishing off the last of his food before his expression turns serious again. "Before I take you up on that, though, I have to ask. That isn't from a walker, is it?" He gestures at the patch covering Roylin's eye. It doesn't look like a recent injury, but if he ended up having to kill his new companion... 

Well, he'd rather not think about that.

Roylin pauses, a hand briefly reaching up towards his face at the question, though he waves it in denial as he leans back in his chair.

"Nope, not from a walker. Don't worry; I would have been rather bothered if less than twenty-four hours after meeting you, I had you for walker breakfast. You aren't that kind of snack." Roylin replies, straightening out his posture with a smirk. "Although if you do find any specific eye bandages around, then I'd appreciate it if you let me know since I'll probably have to change this one soon."

"Um... right." Flint coughs, deliberately ignoring the comment as he gets to his feet and brushes the dirt off his pants. "Speaking of which, should we go search the house? Then we can barricade the doors and find a safe spot to sleep for the night."

"Wonderful plan. I can take this floor then, since I believe I spotted a garage door earlier. Hopefully, I can find some more ammo for this." Roylin points to his holstered gun, standing up and slinging his bag once again over his shoulder. He strolls off, content with his lack of hunger though still feeling bogged down by how horrid their meal was. 

Well...

He looks back over his shoulder just before turning a corner, glancing at Flint for a beat before continuing.

... It wasn't all bad. Now that he has a seemingly decent traveler with him, things are looking up. 

~

Flint jogs up the stairs, avoiding the room with the two corpses, and instead starts his search in one of the other bedrooms. Just as Roylin had predicted, it's practically spotless. He rolls up a couple of clean shirts and another pair of pants that look to be roughly his size, along with two paperback novels that he stuffs into the bottom of his new bag. He has no clue what they are, but he's been without any entertainment for long enough that he really couldn't care less. Now that he isn't by himself, maybe he'll have some time to breathe.

The other two rooms - a spare bedroom and an office, it seems - yield nothing of value, but in the bathroom, Flint hits the jackpot. Inside the medicine cabinet is an emergency kit, with only about half of its supplies missing. He tosses it, along with a container of dental floss, into his bag before heading back down the stairs.

~

Roylin looks around the garage a bit, discovering another handgun that comes with a box of ammo that unfortunately doesn't work with his own, as well as a few spare tools. He grabs a clean rag he could use for his machete later, does a final search of the place to not much avail before heading back out to check one of the lower offices.

He picks up a pocket mirror sitting at the back of a desk drawer, scrounging around for anything else that could be remotely useful. He ends up getting a box of matches, a partially used roll of duct tape, and some sticky notes, which he pockets alongside a pen for later use before leaving.

"Not much in the garage weirdly enough, though I did find this! How was your haul?" Roylin turns towards Flint as he re-enters the living room, handing the other man the pistol and small ammo box. He already has a firearm, and Flint just having a knife wouldn't be the best if they were in a tricky situation.

"Thanks." Flint tucks the pistol into an inside pocket in his jacket, stashing the ammo inside his bag for the moment, and tosses the medical kit to Roylin.

"Not bad. Got some fresh clothes, which'll be nice. There should be some bandages in there for your eye," he adds as he sits back on the couch. "You think it would be worth checking the other houses here before we move on tomorrow?"

"I'd say so. If this place were left rather untouched, it'd be a safe bet to say elsewhere nearby would be stocked." Roylin catches the medical kit, popping it open for just a moment to check its contents before tucking it away inside his satchel. He looks outside, noticing the setting sunlight that peers in through the slats of shut blinds.

"We'd better get prepping before nightfall. I'll look for some clean clothing of my own after we make sure this place won't get torn down tonight, which would be truly unfortunate." Roylin notes, going over to the front door to barricade it with a few dining room chairs. He'd get to fresh shirts while he was on watch when there wasn't an immediate possible danger that needed to be dealt with.

"Right." Flint stands again, heading to the back of the house to look for any other possible entrances. He finds a back door, which he quickly locks and shoves a couch in front of, and pulls the curtains shut on all of the windows. On one, the glass has been shattered, leaving it wide open. Flint isn't sure how to barricade it without totally boarding it up, so he draws the blinds and stacks a few things in front, including a few random ceramic figures. Hopefully, any nearby walkers will have no reason to come by this place, but if they do, at least he and Roylin will have a warning. 

Roylin, meanwhile, makes sure everything is secure near the front room and kitchen, drawing blinds and stacking coffee tables and shelving units in front of anything that could be breached. The living room has a large front window with blinds that are tilted and snapped, so he ties up the dining tablecloth over the glass to block it best he can. He uses a plate to weigh it down at the bottom, making sure no wind or walker can free the cloth without alerting him. He turns back, meeting Flint back at the base of the stairs.

"Should be all good," Flint remarks. "One of the windows in the back is broken, so just keep an ear out for anything back there."

"Will do! In that case, shall we?" Roylin does a small bow, dramatically gesturing up the stairs with his hands before strutting up himself. He'd spotted a few bedrooms up here before, though he hadn't gotten the best look at things. "Your pick of the room, since I'll be awake for a little while longer. Did you see any beds that looked comfortable?" He looks back at Flint, a hand at his hip as he stands at the top of the stairs.

"This one looks like it's barely been used." Flint leads Roylin into the guest room, gesturing to the neatly made bed and sparse decorations as he drops his bag in the corner. 

"Whoever lived here must have gotten out early," he adds with a small sigh of relief, flopping back onto the bed. God, it feels good to finally relax.

"Lovely. I'll just be nearby looking around for some fitting clothes." Roylin smiles, moving to close the door. Just before he does, he looks over his shoulder towards his newfound companion.

"Well, you get some deserved beauty rest. I'll wake you in a few hours." Roylin says, feeling the most hopeful he'd been for a long while. Things are turning out alright for once, which is just... genuinely surprising, still. 

"Goodnight, Flint."


End file.
